In Black And White
by Melan Blue
Summary: Sephiroth seeks to redeem himself after the events of the game. ON HIATUS.
1. Rebirth

**In Black and White**

**Chapter 1**

**Rebirth**

Often in his relatively short and miserable life, Sephiroth had found himself wondering if perhaps he was being kept alive merely to sate someone's sick sense of humor. Just now, he was almost convinced that was so.

Groaning, he raised his shaking left arm and brought it to his opposite shoulder, probing the wound just below his collarbone. Pain shot through both his shoulder and arm and he screamed into the cold night air. Amazing that he was still alive, especially so because of the rocks that pinned him down at the bottom of the crater. Only his arm and upper torso were uncovered. He still wasn't sure if that was a good thing, considering the bitter chill that bit at his skin.

He breathed deeply and bit down hard on his lower lip, then wrenched his right arm from beneath the slab of granite. Blood streamed from his bite and the new scrape on his arm, and he lay back, panting. He lay back, panting, already feeling the Jenova cells starting to regenerate the missing skin. Even after she was supposed to be all kinds of dead, Jenova's influence stayed on. _At least I can't hear her,_ he thought. _Avalanche must have really killed her._

_But what if she comes back?_

He refused to think about that. "Gotta… Gotta finish this," he gasped, needing to hear something other than the howl of the wind and the grating of rock on bone. Gripping the boulder that lay over his stomach, he pushed it to the side, muscles bulging, sweat dripping from his pores. Four stones, a strangled cry, and an hour and a half later, Sephiroth lay on his back, naked except for pants that were more hole than fabric and covered in blood. Surveying his wounds, he guessed that his legs were crushed, his right shoulder sliced open, and at least three of his ribs broken. The rest of his injuries were mostly cuts, bruises and scrapes, though he suspected internal bleeding. _Still,_ he told himself, _it could have been worse. I'd really rather not try to see if Jenova cells will regenerate whole limbs. _

For three days he rested, enduring the cold and the maddening itch that comes with healing. While he waited he reflected on Jenova, and his connection with her, and what he would do to keep her from taking over him again. His thoughts were a mess of half-remembered memories and illogical psychobabble he'd picked up from Professor Gast.

_The scent of blood was sharp and intoxicating in his nostrils. Cloud stared at him, horrified, and the rest of his friends did the same behind him. The Cetra slumped over, held up by the Masamune, her blissful smile frozen in death. It had been quick, at least. Not like it would be for Cloud. He smiled, filled with a joy that was not his own, and opened his mouth to speak…_

_Probably would have happened some way or another, whether you found out about her or not. It was just easier for her to use you this way._

_But I still went along with it._

_Only at first. It's not your fault she convinced you to keep going._

_Cool green water surrounded him. No, not water. Mako. The Lifestream. He'd fallen into the reactor; Cloud had thrown him in with some inhuman strength. It didn't matter. The soothing voice was telling him to wait, to heal, to hide in the shadows and seize his opportunity. What opportunity? he'd asked._

_Why, she said, the opportunity to control the Planet. To become a god._

_But I went along with it._

_She tricked you. You didn't know. Don't worry about it._

_You don't understand. I wanted it. I wanted that power. I hated the humans for what they did, then and now. I wanted revenge, for Jenova and myself. For everything, not just two thousand year old slights; for my life._

_I went along with it, even though I knew deep down that it was wrong._

Three days of this and Sephiroth was beyond sick of it all. He was determined to go by that time, whether his injuries were healed or not. As it was, he was able to walk, and would be able to defend himself should the need arise, if just barely. He stumbled over rubble and into the maze of caverns that lead to the surface, grabbing the Masamune from a pile of stones near where he had fallen. He gripped it tightly, flexing the muscles in his right arm. Something felt off; the muscles in his shoulder were still mending. Well, it would have to do for now. He straightened up, slung the sword over his shoulder, and started off into the darkness.

It was going to be a very long walk.

* * *

Bone Village lay on the edge of the Sleeping Forest, a rambling mass of tents and rough, unpainted clapboard houses, inhabited by excavators, archeologists, and their families. It was obviously not the height of civilization by any means. There was a radio used to contact the mainland in the main structure, a long house that most people dubbed the town meeting house, along with the only television within fifty miles. Unless someone took a boat to the mainland and trekked across the plains to Rocket Town, the townspeople were completely isolated, and they knew it.

But it was amazing how fast they could communicate with the rest of the world when they believed themselves in danger.

Sephiroth ducked as the pickaxe hurtled over his head and crashed into the side of a building. He slid into the gap between a pair of houses and ran for the next street, keeping his head down. Shouting from behind told him that he'd have company as soon as he hit the open street, but he kept on. Better to be attacked where he had room to maneuver than to be trapped in this narrow space that didn't deserve the name alley. He looked up and almost fell on his face trying to stop. In the entrance to the street, fur bristling and teeth bared, was the feline creature called Red XIII. Damnit! He thought he'd avoided Red XIII when he came down into the village.

The lion-like beast stepped forward, tensed to spring. Sephiroth looked back over his shoulder; a crowd of diggers, bearing pickaxes, shovels, and sharpened rocks, blocked the other end. He cursed. Back from the grave and already his luck was out. Wait, scratch that. His luck was nonexistent. Cloud and the former Turk, Vincent Valentine, had appeared behind Red XIII. The cat must have called ahead as soon as he heard the commotion.

Something hit him in the head, knocking him forward to fall on his face. He grunted and felt the back of his head, not surprised to find it sticky with blood. His side exploded with pain; while he'd been checking himself, Red XIII had attacked, clawing at his stomach. He screamed. Healing himself had drained him, and now he was too weak to fight back. Struggling, he managed to bat the feline away before the pain got to him, and he fainted. _At least I'll leave a beautiful corpse,_ he thought before consciousness left him. _Too bad they'll tear me apart before they can enjoy it._

* * *

The body that lay in the infirmary seemed a far cry from the infamous and insane general Cloud had struck down a year ago. Cloud himself stood near the door, arms crossed and ever watchful of the wounded Sephiroth. _Lucky Red XIII was here helping the diggers,_ he thought. Still, how in the hell was that bastard alive? _I killed him! _Cloud silently raged. _Physically and mentally I killed him! How can he be lying in that bed when he's supposed to be rotting in hell?_

Someone placed their hand on his arm and he jumped, immediately going for his Buster Sword. Tifa Lockheart raised her hands to defend herself. "Whoa, Cloud, calm down!" she said.

Cloud sighed. "I'm sorry, Tifa. I just…" He trailed off, his gaze returning to the occupied bed.

"I know. It makes me nervous, too." She spared Sephiroth's sleeping form one fearful glance before shuddering and turning away. "I still don't know why Vincent said to spare him. I'd feel so much safer if we knew he was dead."

"He probably wants to get some information out of him. About Lucrecia."

"Mmm." She rubbed her upper arms like she was cold. "Anyway, I came to tell you Barret's taking the next shift, so you can come eat something in fifteen minutes. Shera made some kind of casserole. It's really good." A small smile touched her face. She patted the crook of his elbow and turned to leave. "Don't stay up all night like last time, you hear me?"

Snorting, Cloud was about to respond with a witty retort when Sephiroth groaned and opened his eyes. Cloud started forward, jumping to the side of the bed, and he heard Tifa's footsteps thundering down the hall as she ran to get the rest of the group. He snarled and pulled the Buster Sword from its place on his back, holding it out in front of him. The emerald eyes that watched him, glowing from Mako enhancement, regarded him with disdain.

"Please, Cloud. Do you really think I'm going to jump up and slit your throat from here?"

"Shut up," Cloud snapped. What sounded like thunder behind him was Avalanche coming to witness this, their enemy and their leader in another epic face-off. At least, it was what they expected. Cloud had to admit that Sephiroth was at a definite disadvantage. He took a deep, slow breath and expelled it through his nose, a trick he'd learned to keep his cool. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Recuperating, it seems." Cloud growled at him, and Sephiroth shrugged. "Look at a map, Cloud. Bone Village is the closest town to the Northern Crater, aside from Icicle Inn. I couldn't very well swim to Junon, could I?"

The Buster Sword slammed into the bed's headboard. Sephiroth stared at it blankly. Was that supposed to frighten him? He sighed. "If you're wondering why I'm not dead, I can't tell you. I don't know why, and threatening me won't make me tell you what I don't know myself." He glared at Cloud, engaging him in a contest of wills. Neither man was willing to back down. They stared at each other in silence, and as the seconds ticked by the members of Avalanche grew nervous. Finally Sephiroth looked away, and the group released a collective sigh that would have been comical if their sworn enemy had not been in their midst. Sniffing, Sephiroth muttered, "For the pain I've caused you… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Barret stepped forward, gun arm half raised. "You're sorry! Damn right you better be sorry! But sorry don't begin to cut it, you crazy bastard. Sorry don't bring back Aeris. Sorry don't bring back everyone who died when Meteor hit. Don't think that just 'cuz you say sorry you gonna get off the hook!"

Sephiroth struggled to sit upright. "I'm not stupid enough to think that. If you wanted to cut off my head and burn my corpse right now, I wouldn't stop you. But I'd rather apologize when it's not enough than say nothing." He stared each and every Avalanche member in the eye, one by one. Most of them looked away, shifting nervously from foot to foot or staring at the ground. "You want me to make it up to you? Earn the forgiveness that I don't deserve anyway? Then give me something to do."

Silence. What could any of them say to this man, who had torn their group apart and lived when it should have been impossible?

Finally Cloud stepped forward, shaking. His eyes were narrowed to slits, hands clenched at his sides. "You find a way to bring back Aeris," he said, voice trembling in rage. He grasped the handle of the Buster Sword and yanked it from the headboard. The wood cracked, the headboard split, and part of it went flying across the room to smack into the opposite wall. "Or so help me gods," he continued, "You'll wish I really had killed you." Whirling on the ball of his foot, Cloud stalked out of the room, heading toward the kitchen, not waiting for a response.

Five minutes later, as he helped himself to a good-sized serving of casserole, Tifa came up from behind and slipped her arms around his waist. "He agreed to it," she said. Cloud thought he detected a hint of disappointment in that beautifully husky voice.

"Well, he'd better have. Unless he's crazy enough to want to die again."

"Cloud!" Tifa sighed and lowered her voice. "You scared me back there. What got into you?"

"I don't know." He turned around and kissed the top of her head. "I just want Aeris back. I promise, I'll control myself from here on in. Okay?"

She nodded as Cid strolled into the room. "Hey, Spike-Ass," he snapped. "Nice going there with Sephiroth. Now that'll be three thousand gil for that bed you ruined back there."


	2. Homecoming

**In Black And White**

**Chapter 2**

"Well, shit."

There was no way to skirt around it; they would have to go through the Neibel Mountains. Without the Highwind, the only way to cross quickly was to fly the Tiny Bronco. And because it barely held two people, and no one wanted to be alone with Sephiroth, all they could do was go through the mountains and hope for the best.

As they traversed a particularly treacherous group of caves, Red XIII hung near the back of the group, his eye open for signs of monsters ready to ambush them. It also gave him the space to grumble without bothering anyone. His flaming tail swept wildly from side to side, and he emitted a low, continuous growl.

How dare that… that murderer, that madman, that _human_ presume to come to his canyon? How could they let him? It rankled his pride to know that, as the guardian of Cosmo Canyon, he had little to no say in who came and went in his home. Yes, the man needed – or claimed to need – information that could only be found in the Canyon's vast libraries, and Red XIII was as anxious to bring back Aeris as anyone else. But by allowing Sephiroth to enter, by escorting him into the place Red XIII had vowed to protect with his life, he was failing his people, his duties. Himself.

Barret dropped back to talk to the cat. "I don't b'lieve this," he said, continuing his diatribe on the evils of walking through the mountains. "Damn, I wish Cid'd been able to fix the Highwind. I hate walkin' out in the open like this."

"I find it comforting. After all, I was born in the wild," Red XIII retorted. Barret, sensing the tension in Red XIII's statement, fell silent, and they passed through the caverns with no more commentary.

Despite all worries to the contrary, the group walked out of the mountains unscathed by either monster or former Shinra general. But it wasn't long before they realized that things were too quiet. In the town itself and the surrounding valley, one could usually hear the bustle of small-town life, birds, crickets, and some of the larger wild beasts moving around just out of sight. Now, the only sounds were those of people and machinery. The wildlife was suspiciously absent from the background noise. They passed through the center of town, skirting the well.

"How can they all just go on like nothin's wrong?" Cid muttered to himself. "They've got to notice that _somethin's_ off, even if they don't know what it is."

"They know," Red XIII replied. They passed a man trying to start up a lawnmower, without success. He was cursing and sweating heavily. "They simply choose not to acknowledge it. The less they know of whatever trouble there may be, the less they have to sacrifice to return everything to normal. It's human."

Cid scowled thoughtfully and moved on.

* * *

Dawn rose in a fiery exultation upon the canyon walls, causing the naturally reddish rock to glow scarlet. _Home_, Red XIII thought, and bounded down the narrow trail toward Cosmo Canyon, which loomed in the distance. He could hear Cloud calling for him to wait, but he ignored it, eager to greet his people after being gone for so long. Too long, he decided. Maybe he would stay here after Sephiroth was done with the library. After all, what kind of guardian did he make if he neglected his duties to gallivant around the world? Breathing in the heavy scent of smoke from the Cosmo Candle, he turned a corner and skidded to a halt.

The smoke he'd smelled was not that of the Candle, but that of burned rubble, smoke still rising from the remains of the gate. From here Red XIII could see bodies strewn about the wreckage, people fallen defending their home. He stared, unbelieving, until he couldn't stand to look anymore, and he careened down the canyon toward the town.

He spared a glance for the fallen at the gate, which had been broken in half. He'd known these people. This man, torn nearly in two by human hands and monstrous claws, made medicines and moonshine; this woman, whose intestines had been ripped from her stomach and wrapped around her throat, looked after children while their parents went to work. Two small bodies lay behind her; they'd been burned alive. Their limbs and faces were twisted in unspeakable agony. Tears threatened his one eye. He blinked them away, and then went to search the town for survivors.

By this time the others had caught up, and he gratefully accepted their help. Tifa kept close to his side, casting worried glances in his direction, as he personally searched every inch of the place. There were pockets of survivors, to his relief, but for every living person he found, there were three dead, and almost a third of the people were missing. Tifa directed the living to the main hall, and helped haul the dead to a separate room. Most of the buildings had been destroyed, burnt to the ground or smashed into unsalvageable debris. The red sandstone walls of the canyon were heavily scorched. On the north side of town, a dead Behemoth lay in a heap, crushing four people and a small hut. It had been peppered with arrows and spears until one had pierced its heart.

"What happened here?" Red XIII asked a young man with his arm in a blood-stained sling, after they had searched the whole of Cosmo Canyon. They were in the main hall, in the portion of the town that had been carved into the face of the cliff. To the left lay the entrance to the Cave of the Gi. All around them people lay wounded or dying, while the few who had gotten away untouched or merely scratched rushed to heal them.

"They came at us in the night," the boy said, blinking weary eyes reddened by smoke. "Everyone was asleep. They grabbed a bunch of people, attacked the rest – I don't know what for. And then they brought in the Behemoth and set it loose on the survivors, after they set our houses on fire."

"Who's 'they?'" Cloud demanded. He had joined them as the boy had started talking. Behind him, Tifa approached bearing a mastered Cure materia. Her dark hair was disheveled, her face red and slicked with sweat from the energies she'd expended casting magic. She knelt next to the injured young man, and the soft green glow of healing magic enveloped his arm.

He sucked in his breath through his teeth. "A bunch of guys in black cloaks. We couldn't see their faces. There must have been at least a hundred of them."

Cloud frowned, muttering a thanks as he stood up and stalked outside. Red XIII watched him, then thanked the boy and followed the lanky blonde man.

He found Cloud sitting next to the Cosmo Candle, staring moodily into the flame. Red XIII joined him, sitting on the swordsman's right. Cloud didn't move. Red XIII couldn't blame his preoccupation. The appearance of the black-robed clones was unsettling.

He wondered if he had the right to obsess as Cloud obviously was. The tattoo on his left flank indicated that he, too, was involved in Hojo's plan to duplicate Sephiroth. But then, Red XIII had only been in captivity for a matter of months, not nearly long enough to be drawn too deeply into this mess. The experiments Hojo had performed on him had been painful, and he still wasn't sure what all the side effects were, but he was fairly certain that what he had gone through was nothing in comparison to Cloud's ordeal at the scientist's hands.

Beside him, Cloud grunted. Red XIII looked up at him expectantly. Moments dragged by as Cloud struggled to find his words.

"I think..." he began, with a quick glance in the feline's direction. Red XIII couldn't read his expression. "I think maybe you should stay here," he continued. "Until Cosmo Canyon gets back on its feet."

Had Cloud guessed at his intentions? Red XIII bowed his head. "Thank you, Cloud."

The swordsman shrugged. "Thought you'd be better if we didn't drag you off after we got through here," he said. He stood up, brushing dust off his knees. "I'll be in the library with him."

Red XIII watched him leave, knowing that by 'him', Cloud meant Sephiroth. Sighing, he turned to the fire and watched the flame flicker in the evening breeze. It had not gone out, and for that he felt he should be grateful. Still, it was not an excuse for his neglect.

"As long as I'm here to protect the canyon, the Candle will never go out," he vowed. The Candle's flame was reflected in his eyes, and they glowed with fervor in the twilight. If it was the last thing he did, he would make sure to keep his word.


	3. Burning the Midnight Oil

**In Black and White**

**Chapter 3**

**Burning the Midnight Oil**

It was a scene not unlike the one that had played out in a Neibelheim basement six years ago. Books were strewn across tables, piled high on the floor, and left open for quick reference. The bookshelves were subsequently bare, their contents scattered throughout the room. Lamps blazed in the corners and on tables, giving the spacious chamber a cozy atmosphere. The man sitting at the central table did not notice, nor did he care. He was not in this library for a good read.

Sephiroth yawned, turned the page, and continued skimming over the rather dry text. At the doorway, Cloud leaned against the wall, his eyes drooping. It was well into the wee hours of the night, and the day had been a long one. Hell, so had the last couple of days, and so far neither of them had been to bed since arriving in Cosmo Canyon. Sephiroth knew he could probably keep reading all night and still be able to function the next day. Whether he actually would depended on whether or not he could keep his restlessness in check. As a man bred to be the ultimate warrior, he did not enjoy extended periods of time spent sitting on his ass.

He set the book down. This was pointless. There was nothing in this library to support any theories he could come up with. Nothing in here was going to give him a clue as to how to resurrect Aeris. It was clear he was at a dead end.

One of the lamps flickered. It was an old oil-burning contraption that had replaced the Mako lamps. The change in light caught Sephiroth's eye, and he looked up. In the corner he saw a book that he had not looked through yet. Closing the volume he'd currently been browsing, he strode over to the shelf. The book was bound in cracked red-brown leather, with the words "Legendary Materia" stamped on the cover in flaking gold leaf. Could this be what he was looking for? As he picked it up several pages slid out, and he hastily stuffed them back in place. He opened the book and read while walking back to the table and sitting. Engrossed in the book, he didn't notice when Cloud slid to the floor with a soft thump, finally losing the battle against his desire to sleep.

"As more conventional materia has multiple uses," began the fourth chapter, "so, too, did the legendary materia have ranging effects. Instead of varied degrees of the intended magic, however, as today's materia is used, the properties of the legendary materia are linked more subtly to their intended purpose.

"Take, for example, the famed White materia. As its name implies, this materia is capable of casting powerful white magic. Holy is probably the spell most associated with it. Indeed, this most potent of white magics inspires awe in those who have witnessed its effects.

"But Holy is, if you will, the White materia's flashy visual effect. Granted, Holy is unchallenged in power, with the sole exception of Meteor. However, the White materia's magical 'intent' is much broader. Because one must pray to activate Holy, the implication is that this is a materia suited more toward use on the spiritual. Whether it was created to protect or attack the spirit is unknown, though its name indicates the former.

"Along this line of thought, one may conclude that the Black materia, which castes Meteor and is considered the antithesis of the White materia, can be used to manipulate the physical. How far these manipulations go is, at this point, pure speculation. However, it seems that it is possible to use these materia in conjunction and come up with innovative results."

The clattering of metal on wood brought Sephiroth back to the present. Tifa was standing off to his right, setting down a tray with a glass of water and a plate of food each for Cloud and Sephiroth. She refused to look at him, her mouth set in a tight, thin line. With hands that shook slightly, she picked up a glass and a plate and headed toward Cloud.

"He's asleep, you know."

She jumped and nearly spilled the food. Turning to glare at him, she set the plate and glass on the table. "I thought he would be hungry," she said in a forced voice.

"He just fell asleep. I'd leave him."

"Well what do you care?" Tifa looked around the room. The sight obviously unnerved her, and she quickly turned her gaze to the floor. _I suppose Cloud was rather descriptive in the telling of his memories,_ he thought.

"I don't really. I just… prefer not to be in a noisy situation when I'm trying to concentrate." He dog-eared the page he had been reading and shut the book.

"You don't seem to be concentrating now."

"True, true." He chuckled. "Well, go ahead then. I still wouldn't recommend it."

Her wine-red eyes locked onto his. With a sigh, she picked up the food and set it in front of him. He flashed her a quick smile and took a bite. The spiced chicken and rice was good. "My compliments to the chef."

She pulled up a chair and sat across from him; he had the feeling that the table served more as a shield than anything else. The only sounds were the clink of fork on plate and muted chewing noises. She seemed uncomfortable with the silence, shifting in her seat and flicking her gaze from place to place.

"So have you found anything?" she asked as he finished his meal.

He nodded. "It's not quite clear on the method, but I think that if we gather the right materia, I'll be able to bring your friend back." It was strange – he could not say the woman's name. It was not so much that he didn't want to, but that to say it seemed to acknowledge the act of killing her. He was not in denial. He had killed many times before, and never before had he been loathe to speak the name of his victims. It just seemed easier not to say her name.

If Tifa had noticed, she didn't say anything. "Which materia? I think we've collected most kinds of materia by now."

"The Black materia and the White materia…"

"That's not funny." She stared at him, her expression brooking no nonsense. Was she remembering what had happened the last time he'd gotten a hold of the Black materia? Maybe. He didn't think so, given her lack of outrage. Oh well, Strife would learn of it soon enough, and then the protests would begin in earnest.

"It wasn't meant to be." He clasped his hands and leaned forward, supporting himself by his elbows. "I don't joke about serious matters."

"So you're taking this seriously, then?"

"Well, yes, I do seem to recall being threatened with my impending doom if I didn't try to bring the young lady back to life. An impossible task, of course, but it's worth a try."

"You don't think it will work." Tifa stood up. "I should have known. You're just doing this to save your own skin."

"You would be right if you were correct in assuming that I don't have a conscience, which you and your friends seem to believe." He stood too, and Tifa was obviously reminded of just how tall he was. She was not a small woman, and yet he towered over her. The faint blush on her face told him that she regretted her outburst.

"You're wrong," he continued. "I do want to live, yes, but even I am not a heartless bastard, as much as you'd like to think otherwise. Does the word redemption mean anything to you?"

"Sephiroth…" Mollified, Tifa stared at him. He frowned and sat back down, swinging his long legs up to rest his feet on the table.

"It's in the book I was just reading. Go look if you want."

She did not move for a few endless moments, processing what she'd just heard. Then, with a small shake, she picked up the plate and cup meant for Cloud and brought them to him. "Cloud," she whispered, nudging him. "Come on, Cloud, time for dinner."

With a sigh, Sephiroth got up, stretching in a languid manner, and strode out of the room, book under his arm. Barret had told him, between growls and scathing glares, that there was a room for him at the inn. It was most likely small, untidy, and had only been given grudgingly, but he would live. Comfort was not a necessity for him.

On the stairs leading up to the rooms, he bumped into someone. Muttering an apology, he turned and found himself face to face with Vincent Valentine. The man's red eyes were calm and gave away nothing, and he was as silent as the coffin Hojo had trapped him in.

Unnerved, Sephiroth nodded. "Valentine," he muttered, inching past him. Vincent nodded and watched him enter his room. He could feel his gaze boring into his back. The feeling did not cease until he had closed the door. He let out a sigh and sank onto the tiny bed.

_Well_, he thought, _at least I've got somewhere to start_.


	4. Stargazing

**In Black and White**

**Chapter Four **

**Stargazing**

The inn's common room was nearly empty, save for the two men drinking by the fireplace. The smaller blonde man pulled a cigarette from the pack tucked securely beneath the band of his goggles and held it to the fire to light it, then took a deep drag on it and sat back with a heavy sigh, blowing a large cloud of smoke out through his nostrils. His gigantic, hulking black companion waved away the smoke with his one hand and fidgeted in the too-small chair he'd somehow managed to squeeze into. They spoke to each other in undertones, and if Vincent had been a normal man, he would not have been able to hear what they were saying.

But he was not normal. He was full of Mako, monsters, and enough angst to fuel all the bad poetry and moping of at least five teenagers. And thanks to the Mako, his hearing was above par, meaning he could hear every word Cid and Barret said from his place at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows.

"I don't like this," Barret was saying. "I don't like this at all."

"You can not like it all you want. Shit happens, and we have to deal with it." Cid took another drag on his cigarette and sighed. "We just have to deal with more shit than most."

"That don't mean – shit, Vincent, don't sneak up on people! Almost gave me a heart attack!" Barret roared. Vincent shrugged, not moving from his spot at Barret's left.

"Cloud told me to have you two come down to the library for a meeting," he said. Barret nodded, and the former Turk turned on his heel and left as quickly as he'd shown up.

Back in the library, Cloud was pacing the floor, his usual frown plastered on his face. He gave Vincent a cursory nod as he came in. The rest of the group was scattered about the edges of the room, looking around nervously. Vincent found a nice corner to settle in to, one with a view of the entire room. He leaned against the wall with a small, contented sigh just as Barret and Cid finally stomped in.

Cloud stopped pacing and took his place at the front of the room. "Well," he said, "the good news is, we know what Sephiroth's plan is."

"And the bad news?" Yuffie asked.

"His plan includes two incredibly powerful materia, and could very possibly be a plot to kill us."

"He says there's this idea in some book he found that would use the Black materia and the White materia to revive Aeris," Tifa chimed in. "But he didn't show me the book, and he didn't say much more than that. I can't tell if he's telling the truth, or if he's got some other reason to go for these materia."

Barret pounded one of the tables with his fist. "Well, I don't trust 'im. He's smart enough to come up with something else, so tell 'im to start thinkin'!"

"I wonder…" Red XIII looked over at Cloud. "It's true, this could be a trap that would end badly for us. But so is almost any other plan he could come up with. And he does seem to genuinely want to help. We should give him a chance, the same way we would want someone to do the same for us, don't you think?"

Barret smacked the table again, causing a crack about the size of his palm in the heavy wood. "You're goin' to trust that maniac? After what he did!"

"I highly doubt any of us actually trust him, Barret." Everyone turned to stare at Vincent. He stepped forward out of the shadows. "But we have nothing else to go on. If this doesn't work, he has nothing. He's taking as much of a risk as we are."

Barret glared at him, then around the room, and finally stared down at the table. Vincent turned his attention to Cloud. "You're our leader," he said.

Shrugging, Cloud looked helplessly around him. "Tifa? Yuffie? Cid?"

"I don't like it," Cid said, "but Vincent's right. I'll go along with it. I guess."

"Well, you're going to need my help getting the materia," Yuffie bragged. She pretended to inspect her nails. "I suppose I could help out."

There was a resigned expression on Tifa's face. She gave Cloud a tight, mirthless smile. "I don't think I really have a choice," she said in a voice so low even Vincent had trouble hearing her.

Cloud hesitated, then nodded. "Right. I guess we'll be heading out when… when he says he's ready." He swallowed, shrugged again, and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow, then."

Gradually the group left, filtering out of the room alone or in pairs, until Vincent was left still standing in the corner, a thoughtful expression on his usually morose face. A few minutes passed as he thought, and then he, too, left the library, remembering to blow out the lantern before he left.

* * *

He wasn't too surprised to see Sephiroth sitting on the ledge he usually occupied. It ran around the rock tower that housed the library and the elders' residences, and he knew for a fact that one could access it from the hotel by climbing through a window. This spot overlooked the stretch of canyon that lay between Cosmo Canyon and Neibelheim, and while the sun had already set, it was still a perfect place to stargaze. If Sephiroth felt peaceful here, who was he to complain? He sat down next to his 'guest' and looked up at the night sky as if he were alone.

They sat there for a while, both picking out his own constellations and thinking about things not related to the stars. Then, as the silence began to descend from comfortable to awkward, Sephiroth cleared his throat and said, "I hear you convinced Strife to let me try this theory of mine."

"I did." There was the cluster of stars that Lucrecia had pointed out to him, years ago. She had said they were her favorite, because they were supposed to represent a pair of lovers who had flown off into the night sky rather than let their family keep them apart. He felt a pang of guilt.

"Thank you. And… if you don't mind my asking, why did you do it?"

That was an interesting question. Why _had_ he told Cloud to give Sephiroth a chance that he very likely didn't deserve?

He supposed it had something to do with Lucrecia. Even if he had tried to destroy the Planet, Sephiroth was Lucrecia's son, and possibly the only physical link Vincent had with the woman other than his own scars. He could see small resemblances – the curve of his jaw, the shape of his eyes – that had nothing to do with genetic enhancements. He was Lucrecia's child, and somewhere Vincent felt he owed it to Lucrecia to see that her son got a second chance.

Of course, had things gone differently, Sephiroth could very well have been his own son. He glanced over at the younger man, who was still gazing up at the heavens, a wistful expression on his pale face. If his father hadn't been Hojo – if Lucrecia had chosen to be with Vincent – well, Vincent had no doubt that things would have turned out _very_ differently.

And then, there was a small part of him that felt he could understand Sephiroth. His history with Shinra was just as tragic, and if anyone could understand what it was like to have someone battling with you for control of your own body, he thought he could.

Sephiroth smiled and lay on his back, tucking his hands beneath his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Mostly I wanted to thank you."

"I'm not sure you want to do that," Vincent replied. "I may have stuck up for you, but you're going to be watched like a hawk."

"I figured as much." He stretched, yawning, and sat up. "I'll see you in the morning, I suspect."

Vincent shrugged and looked back up at the sky, finding Lucrecia's stars with little difficulty. He listened to Sephiroth's footsteps fade, then lowered himself down in a similar fashion. A faint smile crossed his lips, and that was how he woke up hours later as the sun began to rise.


	5. Of Metaphors and Flowers

**In Black and White**

**Chapter Five **

**Of Metaphors and Flowers**

It was hot, and stuffy, and for the past hour or so Sephiroth had tossed and turned in a futile attempt to get some sleep. Even with the window open, the atmosphere in the tiny room was unbearable. He wiped the sweat from his brow and rolled onto his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

The heat wasn't the only reason he couldn't sleep. He couldn't clear his mind; thoughts kept racing through him, bouncing against each other and keeping him awake, if only because of their troubling nature than anything else.

Back there, on the ledge behind the hotel, when Vincent Valentine (at least, he was pretty sure that was the man's name – it was definitely something with a V) had joined him, he'd felt something. A stirring in the back of his mind, an inaudible whisper, a maddening itch that hinted at something alive and malicious. It was familiar, a sensation he'd encountered hundreds of times. He felt it now, too, and he was sure he knew what it was.

Jenova was back.

He heard, or thought he heard, a whisper, audible in the way a person's thoughts are audible to themselves. It strayed just at the edge of his hearing, playing with him. He growled. "Don't toy with me," he murmured.

_My, aren't we touchy?_ Jenova's voice set him on edge. He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting.

"What do you want?"

_We've gone over this before, my son. I want the world, of course. You were so willing to bring it to me before._

"I was also your puppet, complete with your slimy hand up my ass. What's your point?"

She chuckled, and he dug his fingers into his pillow. The fabric ripped, and he felt the prickle of down feathers poking at him through five new holes. _Ah, I've missed you. I've been lost without you, dear._

"So why didn't you stay lost?"

_Because, Sephiroth. No matter what, I will always find my way back to you. You are, as they say, my 'guiding light'…_

"Isn't that a program on daytime television?"

… _My right hand, the apple of my eye, my diamond in the rough…_

"Fine. You want to talk metaphors? You raped my sanity. How's that for a metaphor, _mother?_" he snapped, stressing the last word so that it went from a familial title to a vile, diseased vermin – one that was best dealt with by decapitation and burning. Shaking his head violently, as if to jar her loose, Sephiroth sat up in bed, clutching the bedpost with one hand while he held his temple with the other. "Get –" he grunted, punctuating each word with a twist of his neck " – out – of – my – head!" He could hear her squealing in protest, her voice changing from its normally seductive, feminine drawl to something angry, piggish, and not human in the slightest.

She must have reached out and twisted at some bundle of nerves, because there was a sudden jab at the back of his skull, and then his head flooded with pain. He dropped to the floor, gasping, still clinging to the bedpost. Vision swimming, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to haul himself back into bed. The muscles in his legs gave out, and he collapsed again, letting go of the bedpost and landing on his shoulder with a loud thud. On the floor below, and from the room next door, he could hear raised, curious voices.

_They're going to think you've gone mad now._ The glee in Jenova's voice was unmistakable. He groaned, rolling onto his back. Someone pounded on the door and called his name. He groaned again in response. The person on the other side of the door swore. Then the door shuddered once, twice, three times, and on the fourth try it flew open, crashing into the wall and hanging from one set of hinges. A stocky, blonde-haired man – the pilot, he assumed – stomped into the room, cracking his knuckles and looking around. He saw Tifa's silhouette hovering in the doorway.

Cid stopped next to Sephiroth's head and looked down. Shinra's ex-general stared blankly up at him, and watched Cid's upside-down face break into a mocking grin. "Whaddja do to yourself?" the pilot asked.

Sephiroth weighed his options. He could tell the truth, and watch as they put him on an even shorter leash. Or, he could lie, and hope Jenova wouldn't cause too much trouble for him.

He shrugged as best he could from his position. "I rolled out of bed."

Cid's eyebrows shot up. "I see," was all he said, though it was rather obvious he wanted to say something else. He held out his hand. Sephiroth grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled up to a sitting position, and then allowed Cid to help him back into bed. Cid made a show of tucking the younger man in and making sure he was comfortable. Tifa didn't move from the doorway. _Probably still afraid of me,_ Sephiroth thought. Cid put the door back on its hinges, and left the room with a sarcastic "Sleep tight!"

_And why shouldn't she be? You only killed her father and burned down her home. Any sane person would fear you._

"You know," Sephiroth said, almost jovially, "you keep claiming to be so superior. So why don't you just take a hint and shut up?"

She hissed. _I've broken you before. Don't think I'd hesitate to do it again, boy._

"Ooh, I'm all a-quiver. In fact, your pseudo-threat is so frightening it's making me very sleepy indeed. So if you'll excuse me, I think I'll mull that over while I get some rest." He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes. No matter how many times she taunted him, he refused to acknowledge her. Eventually she gave up, and settled down in one of the farther corners of his mind to grumble discontentedly. He ignored her, and in a stroke of luck, he was able to fall asleep quickly.

* * *

_He was in a dark hallway. The only light, pale and sickly, came from the end of the corridor. He walked toward the light, and as the light gradually grew stronger, he noticed he was in a corridor similar to those in Shinra HQ. _

_He followed the hallway until it stopped at a large, open square. The area was filled with rubble. A thick, gray-white dust covered everything, so that everything seemed to dirty and faded, like an old photograph. He could see a ruined fountain, its waters still and dark with algae and slime; a bent bicycle tire poked out from a chunk of concrete. Several stone animals lay scattered on the ground, most of them in pieces. One of them, a bird, missing its head and one of its wings, lay at his feet. He nudged it with the toe of his boot._

_Beyond the rubble was a mass of buildings, all of them dark, silent, empty. They were in various states of disrepair; most of them had collapsed. Every one of them was damaged. Even so, there were parts of the skyline that he recognized, and with a jolt he realized that he had to be in the ruins of Midgar._

_Someone was singing. Looking around, Sephiroth followed the source of the sound, out of the square and into the maze of buildings. The voice wasn't particularly good, as far as singing went, but it was soft, pleasant, and slightly husky, and he decided that the woman to whom the voice belonged was a decent vocalist._

_As he walked, he realized that he was being followed. Something dark and shadowy continuously flitted along the edges of his vision, darting behind buildings when he turned to inspect it. He was sure that he could beat it if it chose to attack – after all, he _was_ the Great Sephiroth. Still, he kept an eye out for anything suspicious. After a while, the shadow-thing disappeared, and he continued his pursuit with a growing feeling of trepidation gnawing at him._

_There was a dilapidated old church up ahead. It seemed to glow, standing out from the surrounding shells of buildings as a place of bright colors and warmth, in the fashion of dreams. He approached it cautiously, and when nothing jumped out at him he pushed the door open and walked inside. _

_The singing was stronger in here. Two rows of pews stretched toward the front of the church, where, instead of an altar, there was a rough circle on the floor where dozens upon dozens of flowers grew. In the center of the flowers knelt a woman clad in pink. She was kneeling, facing away from him. As he walked up the aisle, his footsteps echoed loudly. The singing stopped, and the woman turned to face him…_

And he opened his eyes to find that it was morning. An impatient Cid stood at the foot of his bed, swearing at him to get up. Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, and dragged himself out of bed to start a day he was sure he would much rather sleep through.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, I am aware I broke the fourth wall. I don't particularly care. That is all. 


	6. When Past Becomes Present

**In Black And White**

**Chapter 6**

**When Past Becomes Present**

_Note: This chapter has been written by Your Worshipfulness, who was kind enough to do so when I said I needed some help with getting over writer's block. Thank you, and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter as much as I did._

Sephiroth's suspicions proved entirely correct an hour later as he stood before the accusing eyes of Avalanche. Emotions varied, but hatred, distrust, and malevolence prevailed. Cloud was the spokesperson of course, and his feelings were made perfectly clear with every threatening look he sent the general's way.

"Let me begin by saying that none of us are going to let you have free reign here. We want to know exactly what your plan is and we want to watch over your work every step of the way," Cloud said flatly.

"That hardly seems conductive to a friendly and productive atmosphere," Sephiroth objected mildly. As one, their expression hardened into glares. Mildly impressed with their synchronism, Sephiroth sighed. "I expected nothing else, continue."

"When we leave, you will be given your sword, but you'll be disarmed before bed each night. Furthermore, you will share a tent with Vincent so that we can be sure you won't sneak off in the middle of the night. You may not have any materia and if you make one wrong move, we'll kill you."

There was a long silence, as if they expected him to object. In the back of his mind, Jenova stirred. He ignored her as best he could, meeting each unashamed stare in turn. Finally he stood, taking note of who flinched at the sudden movement, and addressed them. "The plan is surprisingly straightforward. There will be no epic global quests nor grandiose puzzles to solve. We will go to the City of the Ancients, retrieve the white materia, call the black materia forth, and use them to call Aeris's soul back from the lifestream."

"It can't be that simple," Tifa objected when he had finished.

Sephiroth lifted an eyebrow. "I don't recall saying it was easy, merely that it was obvious. It will require a great deal of effort on my part and a great deal of concentration. There will be sacrifices involved that you cannot possibly comprehend."

"And why is that?" Barret blustered. "We're not smart enough to understand the great Sephiroth's plans? Is that it?"

A nonplussed expression cut off the rant. "No, it's because you're not a Cetra."

"Neither are you," Vincent stated simply, yet his voice echoed more profoundly than Barret's vociferous tones. "I knew your parents. They were very human." His voice was filled with a quiet and ageless pain.

"Two of them were," Sephiroth agreed, "but a great deal of my DNA is infused with cells from Jenova, a contemporary, perhaps even a progenitor of the Cetra. I'm not a Cetra, but I am an Ancient. Either way, I am the only one who understands exactly what will need to be done to use these materia to their fullest effect. I could not begin to explain it to someone who did not instinctually know."

"There are those who would say that they could not begin to explain how to bring a person back from the dead," Cloud challenged.

"A person may do the impossible only once in their lives," Sephiroth rejoined, growing tired of their animosity, well deserved though it was.

"And bringing Meteor down on us wasn't impossible enough?" Yuffie asked. In the midst of the very adult conversation her voice was ridiculously child-like.

A chill smile graced Sephiroth's lips and Red XIII growled low in his throat. "That, my dear, was another impossibility in another lifetime." With that, he quietly removed himself from the room.

* * *

His room was more than a little disorderly, and Sephiroth smiled at how unmilitary he had become. His days in SOLDIER seemed almost as if they belonged to another person rather than another lifetime. He couldn't remember the last time he had made a bed and for a moment he was tempted to try his hand at it. His studies beckoned though, and he reluctantly picked up the worn book and flipped it open. Jenova was being strangely quiet, which was a relief and at the same time worrisome. He did not want to think about what could be distracting Jenova from her primary mission, making his life hell, but it was unlikely that it boded well for his future. For now he enjoyed his privacy and dreamed of a day in which his dear, slimy mother would be permanently exorcised from his head.

Less than a half an hour later, just long enough for him to wonder why he hadn't been checked up on yet, his door creaked open. "We leave tomorrow, at dawn," Vincent said without preamble. Sephiroth looked up from his book, which detailed the relationship between the two ultimate materia. "Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready," Sephiroth replied easily, studying the pale man intently. His comment earlier sprang to mind, and Sephiroth seized it as a good opening. "You knew my parents, you said?"

The shrouded man hesitated, as though not sure whether to confirm or deny. Finally he seemed to come to a decision, for he met Sephiroth's eyes above the scarf. "Yes." Nothing else seemed forthcoming.

"You worked with them?" he prodded, unsure why precisely he was curious.

"At times."

The man was incredibly frustrating, no doubt part of his charm. "What did you think of them?" Inwardly Sephiroth winced, though he did not betray any discomfort on his face. Now was not the time to be displaying personal weaknesses to his enemies and to show that he had not meant to say it would only draw attention to his slip. Besides, Vincent's answer could be extremely enlightening.

For the first time Vincent seemed to show some kind of emotion on his face. Though his expression shifted only by the smallest margin, somehow it was enough to convey unspeakable sorrow and regret. "I hated them both, but I only loved her." With that cryptic remark he left, seemingly melting into the dark, windowless corridor behind him. Sephiroth, finding himself unusually pensive after the ex-Turk's remark, quietly returned to his studies.


End file.
